Trinity
by Cerberusia
Summary: Or 'Four scenario's which might have been all in Jack's mind- and one that definitely wasn't'. JackLuke, LukeDal, hints of JackDal and very vaguely mentioned Bramber.


_For alt-baie._

Title: Trinity (or 'Four scenarios which might have been all in Jack's mind- and one that definitely wasn't.')

Author: Cerberusa

Pairings: Luke/Dal, Luke/Jack, hinted Jack/Dal

1. He sees them watching each other a few times. Just when they think no-one's looking. Dal likes to eye the figure not entirely disguised by the robes of his office, likes to let his gaze linger on the high-cheekboned face, likes to observe the elegant, long-fingered hands with their smooth caramel backs, rough palms and calloused fingers.

He notices that Dal especially likes Luke's mouth, wide and inviting. Jack would bet anything that the guy gives great head. He can imagine how the soft lips would wrap around him and take all of him right down, with that hot, wet tongue. He shivers just at the thought of it.

And of course, the Lieutenant doesn't seem to mind some of Dal's charms- is it just Jack's imagination, or do Luke's eyes pause just a moment longer when he glances at Dal? He doesn't think so.

Though really, if Luke really wants to know what's under that mop of dark hair, Jack would be only too happy to oblige. It's not like their blue-haired 'friend' is the first to sit up and take notice of Dal's subtle charms.

When Jack is taken, he regrets leaving Ellie, but he regrets leaving Dal even more.

~*~*~

2. Maybe they met before the Virus, Jack thinks. He can imagine the scene now- a meeting of eyes, twelve and seventeen respectively, across a lunch room or a hallway. Instant kinship, and perhaps something else, but they aren't at an age to think about that, and this isn't the place.

When they bump into each other later, though, in the charity shop at which Luke volunteers, they think about it. A discussion about DIY hardware leads to a conversation about their hobbies, and as soon and Luke's shift is over, they go to a nearby café, where they discuss literature, films and maybe a bit of politics.

It sounds like a fairytale. It _is _a fairytale- Jack's little imaginings.

Maybe, as they talk, Dal notices how long Luke's legs are in close-fitting denim, or how, smiling and sunlit, he really looks quite handsome. Maybe he notices both of these things.

Jack certainly would.

But maybe that's their last meeting before the Chosen take over, until they meet again as enemies.

Would they recognise each other? _Did_ they? What would have happened if…?

Jack quickly distracts himself from that line of the thought. The memories are too painful.

~*~*~

3. Or maybe the Virus never happens. Perhaps that first friendly outing shyly becomes a second, then a third, and so on, still skirting around the _I fancy you_ with _I'm really glad you're my friend_ as they torment themselves: _I don't know if he feels that way_ and _Does he even like guys?_. Such typical teenage angst, so refreshingly normal.

Eventually they end up knowing, somehow. Personally, Jack favours Dal drinking spiked punch at some school party-function (Luke of course having had too much sense to come within three foot of the concoction). How it all comes out…well, he's torn between Luke taking the opportunity to ask about Dal's love life, and/or Dal just blurting it out. Whichever it is, it leads to them kissing on a bench just outside school.

It's not perfect, but it's _them_, and that's what matters.

They are happy, Jack decides, because- well, because he thinks so, and this is _his_ fantasy.

It's Jack's guilty pleasure to imagine them having sex. In his head, Dal is loud and Luke is quiet, but both of them are shy. He can see the way Dal would gasp when Luke's hand moves to squeeze his cock through his pants, how he would close his eyes tightly and buck his hips. He can hear Luke's harsh breathing as the two kiss each other viciously, but also tenderly.

Luke's hand is still there, still rubbing and squeezing, and when that hand moves to pull down the zip, Dal doesn't resist. The hand slips inside, and Dal starts desperately thrusting his hips and making wild noises in the back of his throat.

Dal exclaims when he comes, in a muffled, wordless shout, as Luke's hand moves faster, then slower, to heighten the moment. He collapses on the sofa cushions- it all happened too fast to move elsewhere.

But in Jack's mind, the best part comes just afterwards, when Luke withdraws his hand, considers the white fluid coating his fingers, and takes a tentative lick.

That's when Jack climaxes over his own hand, along in his sleeping quarters (it can hardly be referred to as a 'bedroom') at the Chosen research facility he's been taken to.

As he mechanically gets ready for bed, he idly wonders whether they'd let him join in.

~*~*~

4. Or maybe even if Dal joined the Chosen. It's a difficult one to make believable, but everyone can be brainwashed, right? Or maybe it's to protect his friends- Dal has always seemed selfless to Jack.

Dal wouldn't look so bad in one of those uniforms, Jack decides. Not sure about the blue hair, though. But all in all, the mental image isn't too unappealing.

It makes is easier to imagine them together if they're on the same side, and he daydreams about them having a 'private tactical discussion' quite often.

The subject of sex would be brought up hesitantly, he imagines, because they're both chronic second guessers. Dal isn't quite as bad as Luke, who makes worrying into an art form, so maybe it's him who brings it up, just by a kiss and going from there. Typical teenage boy- unable to express his feelings in words, instead going for action.

There's some angst in between, of course- _what does this mean_, and _does he love me_ and _do I love him_, but in Jack's over-sexed, hormonal adolescent imagination, the end is always the same: Luke between Dal's legs as he sucks him off noisily. Most of the noise is coming from Dal, of course, as he writhes in the chair or on the bed, wherever they're doing it this time, robes pulled up to his waist.

Luke's head bobs back and forth, as Jack can just see a flash of red-pink tongue dart out occasionally. Dal is squirming and making little moaning noises in the back of his throat. When he climaxes, Jack likes to imagine that he swallows- it seems like such a Luke-ish thing to do.

Sometimes, Jack imagines that Dal returns the favour- Luke lying back on the bed, Dal going for it with enthusiasm if not experience, Luke shivering but still not making a sound, Dal determinedly keeping sucking until Luke comes, but not being able to bring himself to swallow- but he usually prefers the Chosen Lieutenant down on his knees, doing whatever Dal _(Jack) _wants him to.

What he won't admit is that a small part of him wants Luke to be doing all those things to i_him/i_.

~*~*~

5. As it turns out, things don't go like that at all. Three years after Dal's death, Jack stands in front of the grave, and wonders again what would have happened if things had gone differently.

But there's no point in wondering that any more. He sets down the bucket of water for the flowers planted around Dal's grave. Luke suggested that Dal might appreciate live flowers rather than cut ones, and Jack agreed. They are a fitting memorial to his life- beautiful but short-lived, appearing delicate but having hidden strength.

They're the only ones here, him and Luke. The others comes here sometimes, especially Amber, but they are the most frequent visitors. The ones who loved _(love)_ him most, Jack thinks, except that's ridiculous because Amber loved him very much too, just in a different way.

They 'got together', of course- how could they avoid it? Jack can remember when he saw Luke, all alone in the darkened Mall, with the messy blue hair and bright clothing which actually suited him in a strange way, and how angry he felt just at that moment, and how he reached up to kiss him viciously, grabbing a fistful of his jacket to keep him in place.

They don't have sex that night, just attempt to remove each other's tonsils with their tongues. It's too much of a jump just yet.

Two nights later, they take that leap. The act is brutal and desperate, biting necks and scratching flesh in their haste. It's not perfect, it's probably not even good, but it's satisfying in some way.

It's the best they can do.

They've kept it up for the past year and a half, and by now it's largely second nature to them to automatically move their bodies in such a way that a third, slight person could be accommodated.

The ghost of Dal is between them always, the Ghost in their unholy trinity. What they have is not a partnership, but a threesome with one person missing.

The love each other, probably. Maybe. Something has kept them together, at any rate. But love's a big four letter word for what they have, so they don't mention it.

What they have isn't perfect, or good, but it's _right_, and that's what matters. Nothing can keep them away from each other.

It may not be perfect, but it's all they have left.

_FINIS_


End file.
